


Burnt Land

by Boyd



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15896838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boyd/pseuds/Boyd
Summary: there was something fun with this story.in 2016, while I was in London, I received the news that my fanfic has a prize in writing competition for Scottish and Russian writers "The Pushkin Prizes". But there was an issue: I didn't participate in this. Someone translated my story into English and passed it off as smb own. I contacted the organizers and proved my copyright.http://www.pushkinprizes.net/news.php?1183





	Burnt Land

**Author's Note:**

> Merrily, merrily, merrily
> 
> Life is but a dream.

Donovan is not coming today. He said the plane travel for the whole family would have cost him an arm and a leg. Their nanny had taken sick leave so there was no one to look after the twins. He confronted Sara about the fact over the phone, then no need for her to come as well, she can stay there as long as she wants. Noel holds the phone reflexively by his ear for a few seconds before he puts it away on the side table next to the sofa on its back, so he will see the screen blinking on, if someone calls him.

(If actually someone does.)

His hearing has been going bad and bad lately: constant crackling and crunching noises in his ears isn’t going away, many nights he spends lying on his back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rounds of applause bursting in his head.

He hears Liam very well also, he has always been loud. Noel can’t remember when Liam had come but every day he has to hide him from Sara. They don’t really get along.

He has used to getting up before the sun. It’s a common thing when you are old and grey, attempts to add a few hours to your life every day. Four hours of sleep is all he needs. He puts on the trousers and the jacket more out of the habit, anyway he isn’t going out neither that day, nor any time soon.

There’s nothing worth watching on TV, but debate and new prime minister. Another puffed up pompous popinjay in the shiny black suit reminded Noel of the burying beetles that were used to creep out the roof of the apartment he had been renting in Manchester.

“I mean, look at him! What a faggot!” Exclaims Liam with the judgment in his voice, sitting by his side on the couch. Noel winces and shakes his head in disbelieve. Weren’t they supposed to get rid of all the swear words in their seventies? Liam obviously sees it differently as he does swear eagerly like he did many moons ago.

“You don’t get it!” Noel spits. “He’s a reformer.” He reaches for the glass of water to take his medicine.

“You bet!” Liam grumbles.

Noel wishes he could give him a hearty slap upside the head but his hands don’t work like they used to: they are numb and weak as he was underwater. So he just

leans back and relaxes on the couch hearing Liam continuous mumbling for a while.

“Remember those Irish political pieces of shit? They were fighting and attacking each other so furiously just like the cocks from our granny’s farm. ” Liam snorts.

Noel doesn’t give a damn about some old farts but he has never forgotten Ireland, oh, he does remember every little thing. In his memories the hills of the land is covered with the light yellowish-green grass. The nature would spread its grass blanket over the lawns of those places later than it did in their hometown. With the beginning of summer holidays they would go there with their mother to see the tips of green stripes pierce out of the ground, the garden fruit trees in bloom: white petals of the blossoming apple trees. Noel inhales deeply to feel the smell. Liam tut-tuts with his tongue, glancing at him sulkily. He is very persistent, at times ridiculously clingy.

“Let’s have a smoke?” Liam suggests. “Won’t believe, you quitted, you little twat.” He smiles mischievously as Noel gets up with a groan and goes to the bedroom.

In fact he did have a hidden cigarette pack under the pile of the magazines of the past century. The old Marlboro had gotten damp over the years and now is barely burning in his fingers, it takes Noel forever to light it up. He had already forgotten what it feels like. It has always been enough to imagine Liam kissing him to feel cigarette taste right away. Noel is smoking, sitting on their bed, with Liam sitting nearby and fiddling with the dusty photo frame. On the picture Sonny is putting a kiss on the cheek of annoyed Donovan.

“The lads are alright.” Liam says matter-of-factly.

“But no one cares about you, you old goat! No one, but me.” He adds.

“Ha? Wha?” Noel turns around absent-mindedly and stares at him. Eyes of Liam are blue and sad, after all these years, especially, after all these years. Sometimes the fear grips him tight, but as his minds constantly drifts Noel back it easily lets go of him. He flounders in the waters of the long-gone days until the voice of Maggie that comes to cook and clean or Sara’s pulls him out and brings back to the present.

The past is great: Liam was standing at the very top of the roaring crowd with his thumbs hooking through his belt. Noel would play an opening chord and the stadium would explode, then their voices is joining to become one, Liam would turn to smile him.

Some days Noel thinks, one have to be extremely brave to return back to the present every time.

“Mr Gallagher, the tea’s ready!” Maggie calls for him, she is at the bottom of the stairs but in case he didn’t hear her she starts walking up. He did hear and he is already in the doorway, sighs and purses his lips, preparing for the long way down.

Liam’s behind his shoulder, she can’t see him, obviously, she can’t. What a silly girl. How one can’t see the light of the sun or the flecks on the water surface?

“Don’t be so grouchy. She’s alright.” Liam grins, while he is climbing down the stage, holding on to the railing. Each new step is another throwback to their past. He remembers every single soul. The ones that adored his brother. The ones that were kicked out by himself.

He had a load of tricks or you can call them special methods. Even these days he could have managed to show them a door without getting his hands dirty, without any effort. The birds would cling to Liam like a limpet, it made no difference, to be honest, they were truly useless.

“You know, you won’t get rid of your missus until the very day you die. ” Liam notices as they are sitting round the table, drinking the tasteless tea.

“Well, I’m almost there.” He responds with coarseness in his voice.

Sara’s not that bad. Could have been worse. At least she doesn’t get under his skin with a stupid advice on this or that, healthy eating and all that shit that occupy the old men’s minds.

“Don’t marry her!” Liam touches lapel of his jacket with his finger.

He has sunglasses with blue-coloured lenses on his eyes, they make him look ridiculous, as if a brush of blue paint touched his face.

“Have you seen my tie?” Noel looks around.

“No. Don’t marry her.”

“Couldn’t you stop pissing me off, could you? For once? Thank you very much!”

Liam, who’s sitting across from him, starts imitating his own words in the mocking tone.

“Don’t you marry her, Noel, don’t marry, don’t marry.” He laughs.

“Enough! Shut up!” Noel shouts at him, slams his hand onto the table, making everything shake and tremble. He must sound pathetic, taking into the account what’s left of his voice now, it’s still quite loud, though. Maggie immediately runs up to him, fussing around the room.

“What is it? Is everything alright? I’ll take care of it. It seems, Kasabian announced reunion. I’ll take care.”

Noel glances at the screen walking by TV in the living room. Who gives a fuck?

Nothing’s changed in his office, most of his time he spends in here. Liam sits down on the table of a solid oak wood, throwing his eye here and there.

“I’m sorry. You had to.” It’s weird, but he says the words Noel needs to hear, Liam knows, so he keeps on and on.

“Noel, you had to. Everything’s alright. It’s ok. You have to. We all do. And you had to. Sooner or later.”

Noel sighs, hunching his back, and Liam puts his palm on his shoulder.

No matter, how famous you are, he thinks, in your seventies you’re all alone and by yourself, except your own brother by your side, and there’s no grass on the hills of Ireland but scorched earth. And the sorrow.

“God Lord, get your shit together, man, we’ve got no time for depression.” Liam says, running his fingers through the backs of books and magazines, feeling wooden surface of the guitar.

“Mate” Noel thinks. “You shouldn’t be here at all.”

You died three years ago.

As he is turning to Liam he sees him sitting on the leather sofa, with his knees apart, as usual.

“It’s just a hallucination.” Noel says quietly, closing his eyes, he hears squeaking and buzzing noises in his ears.

“That won’t do. At least you have someone to talk to. Or to listen, you, sad cunt.”

Noel pulls out a drawer of the wall unit of cabinets and removes all the sheets of paper out of it. He unfolds the first one: Liam’s hieroglyphs, a two-line letter from Manchester to London. A box with all the kinds of those horrible hand-made cards, decorated with the paper flowers, a drawing of Noel (a big figure) and Liam (a small figure). They lost their colours, faded out over the years, but yet is clear to guess.

“No! That won’t do! You can’t do that!” Liam is messing and rushing around him, while Noel is turning every cabinet upside down. It’s all here: old t-shirts, strands of hair folded in the yellow with age sheets of paper, badges, and huge gloves from Liam’s hands, little notes and magazines with his face on the covers. Photos of his children. Videocassettes and disks.

“You have to. Have to.” Liam admits after all. You have to let me go.

Noel agrees with it, but every time he empties another drawer, something dies inside of him. At last he takes out the velvet box, he doesn’t want to open it so he just hands it to Liam, who’s already disappearing in the dim of corridor. He is at the top of the ladder, when Noel call him out, standing in the middle of the office.

“What about the ticket! You forgot the ticket! Wait, Liam! You won’t…”

He turns around.

“Everything’s going to be just fine.”

You are so strong. You’ve always been so strong. So now it’s going to be fine. Liam means it, as well. He is silent, but Noel knows that. The darkness takes him away. Quiet mutter of the TV downstairs, Maggie’s laugh. Sara’s back the other day. Liam’s things are in the big black bags. Noel is going to burn them down tomorrow, after the lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> Versionist: Kerime
> 
> All comments are welcome.


End file.
